


An Italian Summer

by starfishies



Category: Amadeus (1984), Classical Music RPF, Historical RPF, wolfgang amadeus mozart - Fandom, wolfgang mozart - Fandom
Genre: Childhood, Friendship, Gen, Historical Characters - Freeform, Historical References, M/M, Wolfgang Mozart, Young Mozart, amadeus - Freeform, mostly - Freeform, mozart - Freeform, true story, wolfie - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 19:02:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13277910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starfishies/pseuds/starfishies
Summary: In the summer of 1770, a teenage Mozart and his father embark on a tour of Italy with great hope for Wolfgang's continued musical success.A chance encounter during an extended stopover in Florence results in what may have been Wolfgang's first and only childhood friendship, which was tragically cut short by his friend's death a few years later.Mozart would forever think of Thomas as his equal, noting him as "a true genius" who "had he lived, would have been one of the greatest ornaments of the musical world". (W. A. Mozart)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hannabee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannabee/gifts).



> Thomas Linley was real - they met. They were friends. Look it up.

 

"Come on Wolfgang! Just jump!"  
  
  
Perched on the edge of a large rock the fair haired boy crouched down, clutching his knees nervously. He hesitated despite his friend's rowdy encouragements from across the way. Wolfgang was near enough to the water's edge that he could see his own expression reflecting back at him in the lapping crests as they broke against the cool of the stone. He stared back at his own image, distorted comically by the movement in the water. He grinned noting that his naturally pale skin was now a delightful shade of peach. His reddened cheeks glowed warmly with a slight sting to the touch. It would be worn as a badge of honour, his reward for a day well spent. Papa of course would argue.  

Summer in Florence had proven to be much hotter than what Wolfgang had grown used to in Salzburg. He'd been on the road for months with his Papa, the man who diligently promoted his son's concerts, performances and lessons. Leopold would do anything to garner more attention for the young genius boy who many could only remember as he once was. On their grand tour, which was now some years ago, Wolfgang and his sister had easily taken Europe by storm. It was hard to resist the little cherub in his silk stockings and buckled shoes. No less fashionable, the now teenaged Wolfgang was finding it more difficult to impress the same crowds who had once openly favoured him.    
  
In each city nobility would great them warmly, albeit a little disappointed to see how the wunderkind had grown. What was once just a little thing only knee high, Wolfgang had now stretched into a lanky young man with large grey eyes and a charming smile. That is, if you could excuse his proportions. "But what of his darling sister? She was so lovely!" The gentlemen would ask with their greying hair peeking out from under their wigs.  
  
 Papa knew that Nannerl had reached an age where it was no longer appropriate for her to be in the public eye or worse yet, on the road. He had no inclination to drag her, nor her mother along to Italy for yet another several months of exhausting travel. He did not wish to thrust her into social circles amongst interested, however - inappropriate suitors. Remaining in Salzburg with her mother would be wisest decision for them both. Wolfgang was more than capable of drawing enough attention on his own.   
  
The tour of Italy was to be Wolfgang's first foray as a solo act. He was now unaccompanied by his sister who since his birth, had always been his partner in crime. Nannerl was someone with whom he'd shared everything - from the stage at Versailles to the morning wash stand and the breaking of bread. It was strange to be without her, though he vowed to write often. He was regularly adding little postscripts with insightful or funny observations, sometimes using their own secret language to communicate, lest Papa or Mama were to read their letters.   
  
Wolfgang sighed, pressing his forehead to the window of the coach, he had already written Nannerl today. He'd described their journey thus far and his desire to reach their next destination by end of day. He could hardly stand the stifling air of the coach any longer and he longed to stretch his aching legs out in the sunshine.   
  
"Florence by mid afternoon Wolfgang" Leopold murmured without prompt as he reviewed his plans. He knew his son. His expressions were always plainly readable, and the forlorn looks he was casting about were only signs that despite his jovial nature, he too was growing weary of the journey.    
  
Jostling down the seemingly endless country roads while practically knee to knee with one another, young Wolfgang was glad when it was announced later that day that they had indeed arrived. Ever the opportunist, Leopold had spent much of the time en route schooling his son in the basics of conversational Italian. A bright child, Wolfie had picked up enough to understand the locals upon arrival. He grinned and wandered about the yard, squinting in the bright sunlight as their dusty trunks were unloaded. Leopold had gone ahead to introduce himself to the inn keeper who was most enthusiastic to see the pair standing on his door step.   
  
"Benvenuto - Maestro Mozart!"   
  
Papa had of course written to him days in advance, signing his name - as he tended to do - as Kappellmeister Mozart. It was a title that he afforded himself while touring foreign countries. Nobody would miss the _vice_ in his genuine title as per the Salzburg court orchestra, would they? He may have been wise to do so, such self promotion, as people seemed to make way for them no matter where they went.   
  
A choir master, a violinist, a published pedagogue, Leopold Mozart was a celebrity in his own capacity. Let alone by his miracle child, whom he dressed as finely as any young prince. They both turned heads on regular occasion. Some even believed that Wolfgang was a young royal, and most Leopold his most trustworthy guardian.   
  
"Impressions are everything Wolfgang - if look the part suddenly the world will be at your feet."   
  
  
  
  
  
Those words seemed long forgotten as he shed his tailored jacket on the rocks that afternoon. Wolfie hadn't given a care to its expense, or to its hand stitched embroidery. He hadn't given thought to the delicate silk fabric that ground and stained against the sandy soil, or to the gold thread that pilled and pulled against the rocks. His fine silk stockings were next to go. Once brilliantly white, now grey with dust and debris. It was a hot and humid afternoon, and he could feel the beads of sweat rolling down his back, making him itch and squirm.

"Stand up" Papa had whispered firmly in his ear as he held his shoulders heavily, squeezing him into a corrected posture as they waited to be introduced to a local master teacher. They had received word upon arrival that the violinist master was housing a young protégé, an English boy who looked to be of about the same age as Wolfgang. The budding young violinist was touted as _The English Mozart,_ already composing professionally back in London. He was from a family of musicians himself, with a sister who was of comparable ability as well. Wolfie thinking little of this other boy, was more so concerned of when he would be able to finally rid himself of the swelteringly heavy costume his Papa insisted he wear to the meeting. Wolfie sighed hopelessly, beginning to feel dizzy in the midday heat. Florence was far too hot for waistcoats Wolfgang lamented to himself.

Leopold shook the teacher's hand, nodding and uttering the usual pleasantries of introduction as Wolfgang's eyes began to glaze over. How he truly wished for some water...   
  
"This is Mr. Thomas Linley, of London."   
  
The young man was produced, standing at about shoulder height with his Master. His skin was sickly pale and his eyes were a curious shade of blue. He was a little taller than Wolfgang, and a little broader too. Wolfgang frowned enviously, noting that his Master had allowed him to go without powder or a wig that day. His natural hair was neatly tied back with a fashionable dark ribbon. He was light haired, a brown of sorts. Rather handsome, in a plain sort of way.   
  
"Benvenuto Herr Mozart" Linley bowed formally, extending his hand towards Papa who was already beaming at the young specimen. "Yes, quite. You'll have to excuse our English, as we are still learning!" Papa chuckled, shaking the young man's hand. Wolfgang's ears momentarily pricked up at the change of dialect. English, that was probably his weakest tongue. He sighed, slowly translating a simple introduction for himself.  
  
"You must be the English Mozart," Wolfgang paused, thinking on his next words cunningly,  "Well - I am the _Mozart_ Mozart." Wolfgang's German accent was quite obvious in his pronunciation, but his words were still easily discernible. The young man tilted his head curiously with a smile, perhaps at the sound of Wolfie's voice, or perhaps it was at his odd choice of introduction.   
  
Leopold frowned, pushing his son forward a bit, irritated by his less than cordial introduction. He cleared his throat with a stern corrective glare, "This is Wolfgang. Excuse his vocabulary. It is.....lacking." he covered. Wolfie scowled, he knew well enough what he had said, and he was not sorry for it. How many times had Papa introduced him to noble people, scholars, musicians or artists who were said to be of great talent? When they finally would listen to young Wolfgang play, they would go home in shame. How would this English boy be any different?  
  
"Mr. Linley will play for you, Herr Mozart. A song of his own composition." His Master nodded towards him, and the boy bowed his head dutifully. "He's quite the talent, I can assure you."  
  
Young Thomas didn't seem anymore affected by public displays of ability than Wolfie himself. He confidently swept up his violin and played a few artfully crafted sonatinas for his meager, yet daunting audience. He clutched the scroll of his violin and bowed after each piece, while Papa and his teacher clapped with great enthusiasm. Wolfgang, less so.   
  
"How wonderful, isn't he Wolfgang?" Papa nudged his son, noting his judgemental stare. Wolfie sighed and nodded politely, "Yes Papa." The truth was, Wolfgang was impressed. Thomas could play with great feeling, making sweepingly long phrases and drawing a rich dark tone from what seemed like a lovely instrument. If Wolfie hadn't been so concerned with his spinning head, he would've been more intrigued by this virtuous young English boy.  
  
"Would you like to play something?" Thomas offered his violin towards the pale boy who sat in visible discomfort. His brow was knitted in concern for the young guest who seemed to sway momentarily, before nodding in accord and reaching for the instrument. Leopold grinned, excited by the prospect of Wolfgang performing in front of such a notable teacher. Surely word would spread of his own son's miracle talent and offers to perform in the wealthy homes of Florence would begin to pour in. This was an excellent opportunity.  
  
As Wolfgang rose to his feet, he suddenly felt light headed. The room was spinning as he tried to take deep breaths. Thomas' brow raised expectantly as Wolfgang moved to draw his bow across the strings for the first time, however, he was to be sadly disappointed. The Wunderkind sighed, closing his eyes briefly before he unexpectedly dropped to the floor, collapsing in a heap of powder, embroidery and silk.   
  
Leopold rushed to his son, scooping him up in his arms, his face etched with panic, "Wolfgang!"  
  
  
  
  
  
His dramatic fainting episode had been a few days ago now, before Wolfgang had grown accustomed to the oppressive heat of midday Florence. He thought back on that first meeting with a blush, a rather embarrassing story to tell of course, but Thomas didn't seem to mind. Taunting him now from the water, he only wished for Wolfgang to join him. They had become fast friends, despite Wolfgang's unrefined grasp of the English language, and Thomas' rather stiff British disposition. The gangly pair seemed to get along splendidly. It was hard to miss their shared looks at meals, or the muted giggles coming from the salon where they practiced accompanying one another on the harpsichord. Leopold, who was known to be quite difficult to please, took pride in seeing his young son bond with a fellow talent, and one of fine establishment no less!   
  
"I can't swim!" Wolfgang protested, his linen shirt the only thing shielding him from the sun's rays. His strawberry hair was tousled and windswept. Wolfgang had no means by which to tame it, as his ribbon had long since been lost in the tall grass back up the bank. If Papa could see him now, he'd be livid. His good clothes scattered about carelessly, his skin burning under the hot sun. _You must be careful of your health Wolfgang_ \- he'd scold. That fainting spell upon arrival had thrown his father into a fluster of fear and exasperation.   
  
Wolfgang had always been a sickly child, twice on his death bed. Since Wolfgang's harrowing brush with mortality, Leopold now lived in constant fear, perhaps even to a point of limiting the child's growth. He'd never been allowed to run amuck, play in the rain, engage with animals or just, be a child. Perhaps the loneliest of all, Wolfgang didn't really understand what it meant to have friends.

At least not yet.     
  
Thomas scoffed, "Well you can't learn from shore" he teased, splashing water towards him causing Wolfie to yelp and scoot back from the edge. Thomas frowned, paddling closer to the rock on which his friend seemed permanently cemented. He folded his bare arms on the stone, resting his chin casually, glancing up at Wolfgang with a curious but patient smile.  
  
"It's shallow enough here that even _you_ could stand," Thomas challenged him, "See?" he stood on the sandy bottom, his shoulders just visible above the water's surface, "I'm not even swimming - just standing. It's perfectly safe." Wolfie eyed him skeptically. He'd never been in water before - save for bathing and even that was rare. He peered down into the murky surface, grimacing at the prospect. "Can't I just watch from here?"  
  
Thomas sighed, splashing at him once again, "If you don't jump, I'm going to drag you in"  
  
Wolfgang's face suddenly turned to one of absolute horror, "You wouldn't dare"  
  
Thomas sank down in the water, hiding his wry smile beneath its surface. He eyed him like a predator eyes its prey, "No Thomas!" Wolfgang scolded, but realizing he was in grave danger, he began to scramble back up the rock. He was not able to escape before Thomas leapt out of the water and seized his ankles, dragging him - as promised - into the water with a great splash. He was laughing as Wolfie panicked, thrashing about with his hair matted to his face. Thomas watched in great fascination as Wolfgang screeched and wailed. The boy was traumatized, he nearly did think Wolfgang was drowning! Wolfgang began calling for help and waving his arms about as if he was in grave mortal danger.  
  
"Thomas! Help!" he wailed, thrashing his arms while creating a great spray of salty water, "Wolfgang!" Thomas squinted against the on slot with a laugh. He shielded himself against the flailing limbs and splashing water, "Wolfgang - just stand up!" he yelled over the crashing of waves, "Stop!" he reached blindly into the action, seizing Wolfgang by the arm, "Stop!" he repeated, shaking him slightly, "Just..." he lowered his voice as the water calmed, "Stand."  
  
As his feet found the bottom he slowly relaxed, panting to regain his breath from the panic. His blue eyes were wide and wild, his hair was drenched and clinging to his face. He gave the look of a feral cat that one had tried to bathe. Thomas lowered his smirk below the water, masking the complete hilarity of the situation as Wolfgang realized he was _not_ in fact drowning. Wolfgang slowly made eyes at him, a small smile growing across his face, "Bastardo!" Wolfie cried, summoning the courage to splash his tormentor with all his strength. Thomas shrieked with laughter and swam for safety, not before pushing Wolfgang under water to give himself a head start.  
  
The afternoon drew on in this way, the boys eventually tiring of swimming and running about on the sandy edge. They eventually trudged their way back up the embankment to lay themselves out on the long grass to dry. In their undershirts, they lay on their fronts, baking themselves under the lowering sun. Wolfgang closed his eyes for the moment, a satisfied smile on his freckled face. Thomas lay within a breath's distance, watching him quietly, noting his features for the first time up close.  
  
"Wolfgang" he murmured  
  
"Hm?" he barely made to open his eyes  
  
"Won't your Papa be mad that you've made a mess of your good clothes?"  
  
Wolfgang frowned, eyes still closed, "I have others"  
  
Thomas chuckled, rolling onto his back and folding his hands onto his stomach. He began to watch the clouds with great interest, observing the different outlines and shapes with curiosity. "Hey, Wolfgang look - that cloud looks like violin" Wolfie peeled one eye open, glancing skyward, "Where?" he squinted, flipping over and shielding his eyes against the sun.  
  
"There!" Thomas pointed, "See?"  
  
Wolfgang smiled at the wisp of white, it kind of did look like a violin.  
  
The pair lay silently for awhile, watching the clouds. Hoping he could find something of interest up above, Wolfgang scanned each shape carefully. He was sure that if he looked hard enough, there would be something. Regrettably though, his lids eventually grew heavy and he ended up dozing off before he could find anything of note. Thomas turned on his side to side to find Wolfgang laying on his back, eyes closed and mouth agape as he snored softly. He smirked and lowered his head to the soft grass, he too could use a rest. The boys lay asleep among the grass until dusk when voices could be heard calling their names. Wolfgang was the first to hear them. A distant echo, ushering them both back to reality.   
  
"Thomas" he shook his friend who was snoring lightly on his back, Wolfgang smirked and stifled a giggle. "Thomas!" he hovered over his face, perched on his elbows smiling at him like a fool, "Get up - Papa's coming!"  
  
Thomas' eyes snapped open and he sat up with a jolt, toppling Wolfie onto his backside, "What?" he winced, holding his head in groggy confusion. "We have to go back." Wolfie sighed, turning to glance over the crest of the hill where two adults appeared to be making their way towards them. Thomas frowned, "I guess we'd better get dressed!" Wolfie smiled, hastening to gather up his belongings, piling them haphazardly under his arm.   
  
"Why even bother to redress, you know? I think I'm perfectly suited for supper - just like this!" Wolfie declared, bunching his elaborately stitched waistcoat under his arm and resting his hands on his hips, "Don't you think Thomas?"   
  
Thomas sat on his heels, eyeing his young friend, dishevelled and dirty from a day's play, his undershirt falling just above the knee and rustling in the wind. His blonde hair was mangled and sandy, his face red from the sun. He looked wild! Nothing like the young prince he'd met just a few days ago, prim and proper. One who'd been tailored into a strict posture, shoulders back and eyes dull. No - this Wolfgang, this - savage, untamed, feral boy - this one Thomas liked him much better. With his blue eyes sparkling and his cheeky smile, he was a ruffian - a true scallywag!  
  
"I think you look splendid Wolfgang," Thomas grinned, "just splendid."      
  


 

 


	2. Invited Guests

 

 

 

 

Wolfgang itched himself uncomfortably against the back of his chair whilst twisting his sun reddened face in discomfort. His heavy dinner coat and ruffled collar was stifling him. He swallowed thickly, feeling the knot of the cravat digging into his throat. He felt the slow affixation of lace and beadwork as it held fast against his swollen, aching muscles and chaffing cruelly against his sunburned skin. Papa had insisted that he clean himself up and dress for dinner, he had been beside himself when he saw the state of Wolfgang's good clothes. Covered in muck and dirt, he'd even torn one of his better pairs of hose. Leopold had nearly dragged him to the washstand by the ear, admonishing him for being so careless with his concert clothes.   
  
"And your skin!" Leopold exclaimed, watching as his son wiped his arms and chest with a damp rag, "You'll be lucky if you don't blister - us Salzburgers are not meant for the sun Wolfgang."   
  
Wolfie met his grey eyes in the reflection of the mirror, "All that sun - It isn't healthy."  
  
Leopold gave a long sigh, noting his son's ever changing appearance. He was thin and wiry, his elbows and knees all caught at peculiar angles, and he even dared to notice a broadening at the shoulders, though his height remained unchanged. Wolfgang was growing no doubt, and his voice had deepened considerably since the previous winter. What had once been an exquisite soprano was now a husky contralto at best. Wolfgang had been so distraught at the loss of his vocal range that he had broken down in tears, sobbing pitifully. _"Papa, what has happened to me?"_ he had wailed, throwing himself into Leopold's arms dramatically. His Papa chuckled knowingly before answering, _"Life Wolferl, life has happened!"_

Leopold frowned at the memory before declaring to his son without room for negotiation    
  
"You'll wear the blue suit this evening - with a fresh cravat."  
  
Wolfgang paused, holding the brush to his hair for a moment. He thought about answering, opening his mouth to respond back with something clever, but after Papa's scolding for ruining his clothes, he thought it was best to now quietly obey. He simply lowered his eyes and continued to comb the sand from his matted hair with a submissive nod. He liked the blue suit well enough.  
  
  
  


 

  
  
Catching a hired carriage out to a garden estate on the edge of the village of Florence, Wolfgang caught his first glimpse of the Tuscan countryside. It's hills were dotted with sparse shrubs, distant tree lines and row upon row of meticulously groomed vines that seemed to twist and turn themselves along miles of braided line.  
  
"It's a vineyard Wolfgang" Thomas explained, seeing his friend practically pressed to the carriage window in fascination, "Grapes grown for wine, it's a specialty of this region." He leaned back against the bench, watching Wolfie stare at the mountainous landscape with wide eyes, "The Duke we are playing for tonight will surely let you have a taste from a bottle of his own making." Thomas elbowed him playfully and whispered, "Or you can seduce his young mistress, she might give you a whole bottle!"

  
Wolfie's keen ears were quick to catch the uncharacteristically lewd remark as he turned to his friend with a cheeky smile. Before he replied, he quickly looked to his Papa to confirm his disinterest in their little whispers.   
  
"A young mistress?" Wolfie raised a curious eyebrow, sitting back alongside the sly looking young English boy.   
  
Thomas raised his eyebrows and nodded enthusiastically, " _Very_ pretty" he articulated a curvaceous shape with his hands. Leopold briefly paused his conversation with Master Nardini to raise an eyebrow at young Thomas, who quickly sat on his hands with a blush. Once Leopold had resumed his conversation, Thomas immediately turned back to Wolfgang.  
  
"Red haired" He winked and sighed, as if he were recalling some long forgotten romantic tryst.  
  
Wolfie's eyes widened, thinking that perhaps Thomas' opinions on feminine beauty somehow differed from his own?   
   
"Red hair?" Wolfie whispered back, and Thomas nodded again - eyeing their chaperons warily before continuing. "Yes, quite like your own actually." Thomas tilted his head and squinted at him vaguely, "Yes, very pretty. You'll love her."  
  
Thomas mused, "Every man does."  
  
Wolfie frowned, catching Thomas out of the corner of his eye. He hoped he would be right.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Dinner was a stuffy affair, attended by the Grand Duke and his mistress, quite young and just pretty as Thomas had aptly described. There was Signor Nardini and Papa of course - and little Thomas, the star pupil, tucked in beside Wolfgang near the end of the table. Though he had enjoyed every minute of it, Wolfgang was completely exhausted from his adventures down by the waterfront earlier that day. Laughing, running about, and chasing one another - it was all in great fun. Being pulled off of that rock and thrown unceremoniously into the chilled water, Wolfgang had nearly drowned in panic. Thankfully Thomas had been at hand to rescue him from such an early demise. Wolfgang shook his head, feeling sweat trickling down the back of his neck. He wondered if Thomas was sweating too? He'd been in Florence much longer than Wolfgang, perhaps he had grown accustomed to the oppressive heat. Judging by the redness in his pale English complexion and the dewy look on his cheeks, Wolfgang smirked and thought not.   
  
"I'm dying" Wolfgang croaked under his breath, hoping Thomas would hear his desperate cry under the din of the table conversations.   
  
Thomas smirked, scratching under the nape of his wig, "Me too"  
  
Wolfie felt a wash of relief, hearing he was not alone in his quiet suffering. He looked up under his lashes to catch a wink from the Duke's mistress, a petite young lady with dark eyes. She smiled at him and gave a polite nod, a promise of a conversation following the conclusion of the dinner perhaps? Wolfgang couldn't be too sure.  
  
Suddenly he felt a thump against his calf, making him jump and scowl at Thomas with a questioning glare, "I think she likes you..." Thomas whispered, nodding towards the young lady who'd turned her attention back to the Duke, laughing giddily at his attempt at a joke. "She was staring right at you!"  
  
Wolfie gulped.  
  
"Just wait until she hears you play" Thomas giggled, forking the last of his meal into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully before turning to his friend with a serious look, "You _have_ kissed a girl, right?"  
  
Wolfgang blinked at him, stunned. Well sure, he'd kissed plenty of girls. Mama, Nannerl, he was always kissing ladies on the hand when Papa introduced them?  
  
"And I don't mean your Mama..." Thomas seemed to read his thoughts, but the answer was interrupted before it was even given, "Gentlemen - my wondrous young Austrian guest - we have prepared a special Italian treat for you all and I hope that you enjoy it most heartily" The Duke signaled his footmen forward with silver trays displaying small polished bowls heaped with brightly coloured mounds of what looked like custard. "I trust that you have never sampled such a delicacy outside of this region. Italian gelato, an iced treat, it's quite the blessing on a night as warm as this." He took the first of the silver bowls for himself, gesturing the dispersal of the rest to his guests.  
  
"Young Wolfgang - I hope you'll enjoy this as much as I enjoyed your performance this afternoon. " He raised the bowl in a toast-like gesture, "Saluti young man, to you and your father."  
  
Leopold beamed proudly as Wolfgang blushed, "Grazie Signore"   
  
The Duke nodded at the polite reply and chuckled, "Now shall we let the boys go? We have an impressive garden I'm sure they'd love to explore," he turned to his young mistress, "Perhaps you'll accompany these young men on a tour, show them our outdoor amphitheatre," he patted her hand, "I know how much you love the gardens?" She smiled and kissed his cheek before whispering something in his ear, his smile fell briefly, but was follow by rapturous laughter that nearly shook the whole table.  
  
Thomas and Wolfie raised eyebrows at one another  
  
"Yes my dear - of course" he settled, shooing her away and turning back to meet Leopold's awkward grin, "So then, shall we move to drawing room for cards?"  
  
The men nodded amongst themselves, leaving the boys seated alone at the long table in awkward silence.  
  
  
"Is she coming back - do we wait for her?" Wolfie spooned his rapidly melting desert around in the bowl  
  
"Of course she's coming back!" Thomas whispered, watching as the doors swung closed behind his tutor and the Duke, "Besides, we can't just get up and leave, what if she comes back and sees we've gone on without her?" Thomas scraped the bottom of his bowl, easing the last of the gelato onto his spoon greedily.  
  
Wolfie shrugged, "Maybe she doesn't want to go with us?"  
  
Thomas rolled his eyes, allowing the spoon to clatter down into the empty bowl with an emphatic clang, "Wolfie - she winked at you" he chuckled, "She's coming back."  
  
Wolfgang continued staring down into his iced desert skeptically, "Are you going to eat that?" Thomas questioned curiously, watching Wolfgang play with his food. Wolfie shook his head and pushed the remains towards him, "You can have it - I don't think I like it?"  
  
Wordlessly, he swept up the dish and drank the liquefied contents gleefully, wiping the run off with the back of his sleeve. "Thomas!" Wolfie giggled, "Did you just drink from the bowl?"  
  
Thomas smirked, lowering the dish to the table slowly with a mischievous smile,  "No"  
  
"I would never do something so crass Wolfgang - what do you take me for? I'm not a brute like you Germans."  
  
Wolfie stifled a giggle,  becoming mockingly offended "Oh is that so?"  
  
"Yes - precisely. You are an ape of a man, it's true." Thomas stuck out his tongue, he loved teasing Wolfgang and the way it lit him up.   
  
"Am not!" Wolfgang stomped his foot, planting his hands on his hips, "Oh I think you are" Thomas crossed his arms non chalantly across his chest, daring Wolfie to challenge him.  
  
Wolfie furrowed his brow before suddenly smiling playfully  
  
"Well - would a brute do ....this?"  
  
Thomas' face fell as he heard Wolfgang let out an impressive belch on command, punctuated by a smaller more impish burp to finish. The fair haired boy smiled smugly before sticking out his tongue as if victorious in the debate.  
  
Thomas grimaced - trying his best not to laugh at his friend's repulsive humour but Wolfgang's giggles were contagious.  
  
"Bet you can't beat that" Wolfie challenged him through his laughter  
  
Thomas was never one to back down in a fight!  
  
The pair took turns trying to best one another with their most impressive gaseous expulsions - not caring even when the footmen returned to clear the table, or when the head man cleared his throat to awkwardly draw their attention to the return of the Duke's mistress now gallantly made out in a fresh evening gown of light muslin and satin. Her face showed an expression of wild intrigue for the game the boys were playing when she walked in, "Buonasera Signor Mozart," she curtsied, "Signor Linley"   
  
The boys looked at one another, suddenly pale.   
  
She extended her hand towards them, expecting to be lead.  
  
"You go -"  
  
"No you!"  
  
"My Italian isn't any good"  
  
"She probably speaks English you twit"  
  
" _You're_ the one she likes!"  
  
"Fine!" Wolfgang hissed, smoothing out his jacket and plastering his best smile across his freckled face. Another evening entertaining a wealthy lady while Papa talked business with the other men. Wolfgang bowed humbly and took her gloved hand, kissing it rather formally. Behind him Thomas could barely contain himself - this was the same boy that not five minutes earlier had been challenging him to a revolting round of a belching contest.   
  
" Siamo così contenti di camminare con te" He smiled, his perfect Italian suddenly silencing the snickering Thomas who's mouth fell open at the sound of his fluency, "I said, we are pleased to walk with her, aren't we Thomas?" Wolfie turned over his should with a silly grin towards his awestruck friend.  
  
"Or shall we speak only in English?" Wolfgang teased, knowing Thomas' commanded of the language was less practiced than his own.   
  
Thomas balked, suddenly flustered, "Capisco l'italiano!" he cried with indignation, "Mostly..." he added in a murmur. The young lady fanned herself with a giggle, looking to Wolfgang with a flutter of her dark lashes, "Not to worry Signor Linley" she articulated carefully, thinking on her words, "I also can speak English."  
  
Wolfie nodded with a smile, "Excellent - grazie! Please, lead the way"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
For most the walk, Thomas trailed behind the pair as they chatted in a lively Italian. He was surprised to learn just how adept Wolfgang was at the language, which must have been at least a third or fourth to his native Salzburg tongue. His accent was impeccable - one could practically mistake him for a local. Whatever he was telling her, she seemed to be enthralled, giggling and fanning herself flirtatiously and smiling the whole while. Thomas kicked at the pebbles lazily under his feet, his hands clasped neatly behind his back as he followed quietly. He was trying his best to catch the odd word here and there.  
  
"Thomas!" Wolfgang's voice suddenly drew his attention and he snapped his head up  
  
"She wants to know where you are from," the pair slowed to stop, turning to face their sulky follower, "London - England," Thomas cocked his head, "But you know that Wolfgang."  
  
Wolfie nodded and excused himself to her quietly before turning back to his friend at a whisper, "I'm trying to get you to talk to her - let me help you"  
  
Thomas frowned at the suggestion, "I don't need to talk to her" He was suddenly insulted at the idea that he could not converse with a lady on his own.  
  
Wolfgang's eyes pleaded, "But you said she was pretty! Don't you think so?"  
  
Thomas watched as she wandered on her own, making her way through the garden shrubbery towards the main house. She hummed as she went, following the walkway along the roses. The pebbled path was lined by torches, now being lit by sullen, liveried staff in stiff crimson coats. The sun was long gone, and the stars above were now just starting to make themselves known.

Wolfgang shuddered watching the men work -  at the thought of servitude.  
  
Oh to be so tied! Could there be a fate any worse?  
  
  
  
"She _is_ pretty!" Thomas hissed back, keenly aware of the growing number of witnesses surrounding them  
  
Wolfie jumped back a bit, a little unnerved by Thomas' sudden change in mood, "Well, I'm just trying to help" he said defensively, making Thomas feel instantly guilty for his jealous little outburst, "Fine, but I don't need your help you know."  
  
Wolfie narrowed his eyes at him, feeling somewhat hurt by the rejection.  
  
"Well at least I'm not wandering around the gardens with desert on my face"  

  
Thomas' eyes widened, "What?"  
  
Wolfgang instantly broke into a fit of giggles, "Yes - the _whole time_!"  he held his middle as he doubled over on to his knees, tears coming to his eyes as he gasped for air,  "She said you looked good enough to eat, considering you had gelato on your chin."  
  
Thomas went completely scarlet and he stomped his foot, "Wolfgang!" he gritted his teeth, "Why didn't you say something!" he began to wipe furiously at his face, missing the offending spot completely which only sent Wolfgang into further hysterics.  
  
By this time the young lady had made her way back to the main house, and the gardeners had now gone. It was just the two of them left outside on the path, Wolfgang wheezing on his knees and Thomas growing red from embarrassment.   
  
"You know, you'd be a much better friend if you could stop laughing at me and tell me where this damned spot is!" Thomas grunted as he scrubbed at his face.   
  
Wolfie's laughs died down as he brushed the dirt from his knees, still chuckling as he righted himself. Stepping forward with a silly smirk he watched as Thomas missed the stain blindly, "The other side Thomas..." Wolfie suppressed further laughter much to Thomas' frustration.  
  
"Here," Wolfie stilled his arm, his chest still rumbling with laughter, "Let me..."   
  
Thomas was expecting the scratchy familiarity of a linen sleeve, or the silky smoothness of an embroidered handkerchief - but never would he have guessed what he felt next. In a long, exaggerated wet sweep of his tongue, Wolfie leaned forward and lapped at the corner of Thomas' mouth. Just like that - he'd licked him, and then proceeded to rub the spot with his thumb for good measure! Thomas was so stunned that he nearly fell backwards, his body rigid and tight as Wolfie hummed to himself, concentrating on clearing the last of the stubborn mark, oblivious to Thomas' astonishment.  
  
"There," Wolfie stepped back to admire his work, "Good as new!"  
  
Thomas just stared at him in the growing darkness that surrounded them, he was at a complete loss for words.  
  
"Thomas?" Wolfgang frowned, noting his friend's frightfully widened eyes.  
  
"Are you alright?"  
  
  
Thomas shook his head in disbelief, "Is that normal where you're from?" he sputtered  
  
Wolfie blinked at him in confusion, he wasn't exactly sure what Thomas was asking.  
  
"I'm sorry? I don't understand" Wolfie chuckled to himself, English was always a tricky language for him.  
  
"Licking people Wolfgang! Is that normal to you?" Thomas threw his arms up in the air dramatically, "You _just licked me_!"  
  
Wolfie frowned, recalling the accuracy of Thomas' statement, "I..." he shrugged, "I suppose I did."  
  
"But you wanted that mess gone, no?"  
  
  
Thomas grumbled to himself. He should have known Wolfgang would do something so ridiculous, it's not like he had proven normal in any other aspect of his life! Licking people? Really! And truthfully, Thomas didn't mind it so much. He supposed it was necessary as the gelato had dried and could not be rubbed off without water, or at least - that's probably what Wolfgang was thinking, no?   
  
"Yes, I did" Thomas admitted quietly, "Thank you"  
  
Wolfgang exhaled happily at Thomas' acknowledgement, hoping that any ill feelings between them would soon pass. He knew he was taking a risk, but Thomas seemed the perfect candidate. Based on his reaction, it was now reasonable for Wolfgang to assume that he had far overstepped the boundaries of their friendship. Lesson learned, Wolfie sighed to himself.  
  
"Shall we go back inside?" Wolfgang asked sheepishly, breaking the awkward silence  
  
Thomas frowned a little, reaching clumsily for Wolfgang's fingers and clasping his hand, "Yes, let's go."  
  
   
As they walked with their hands laced, towards the house, Thomas piped up cheerfully, "You know, you're really a very strange boy Wolfgang, has anyone ever told you that?..."

  
  
Wolfie giggled  
  
  
"Si Signor!"

 

 

 

 

 


	3. When Nobody Was Listening

"Wolfgang"  
  
The voice that peaked Wolfie's interest was distant and soft. He couldn't place its timbre through his sleepy haze, but alas, he couldn't be sure that he wasn't simply dreaming its existence in the first place. He rolled onto his tummy and curled into the downy pillow with an annoyed grunt. He had never found it easy to sleep in unfamiliar places, despite his many years on the road. Princely palaces were often drafty and damp, with lumpy embroidered pillows and scratchy tapestries in place of soft quilts. Sometimes he wished to trade his travels for a peaceful life at home, but Papa would never allow such an idea to be!   
  
The road and their travels held excitement, opportunity - and perhaps most importantly, _money.  
  
_ After another evening on display, Wolfie and Thomas had been shuffled off to a cavernously empty room for bed. It was far too late for the boys to be travelling anywhere - and besides, the wealthy hosts usually delighted in having an encore at breakfast...before anyone cared to feed the performers of course.   
  
  
 The gentle voice came again in a lovely English whisper.  
  
  
" _Wolfgang_ \- are you awake?"  
  
  
Wolfgang stirred sleepily, unsure if he were still in some sort of quasi reverie. That was, until he felt the gentle tug upon his sleeve. He peeled his eyes open curiously, but the room too dark to make out anything in great detail. Even with the heavy drapes tucked neatly behind their ornate keepers, the moon gave little to search by.    
  
"Are you awake?" the hushed voice continued  
  
There was no mistaking the peculiar accent of his young English friend. Truthfully, Wolfie was fascinated by the musical lilt of Thomas' speech. It was one that he aimed to mimic in his own mastery of the English language. However, he continued to stumble over the foreign drawl. English was a finicky language that somehow continued to evade him, and Thomas did little more than snicker at his lousy attempts.     
  
The English were a very frustrating bunch!  
  
Wolfgang grumbled and turned on his side. "I'm awake _now_ " he muttered, squirming himself into place with an accusatory glare in Thomas' direction. It had been nearly midnight when Papa and Nardini had finally sent the boys to bed, after a rousing set of duets most artfully played for the Duke and his lady, who both applauded enthusiastically.

While Wolfie had accompanied Thomas at the keyboard, his pale blue eyes roamed the room. He noted the fine furniture and appraised the portraits that adorned the walls. There were heavy tapestries and gold leaf candelabras that his father coveted with keen interest. _Just think Wolfgang - one day, with your talents - we too could live like this._  
  
The young man's mind continued to wander.  
  
Wolfgang grew quite serious watching as the Duke leaned over his young mistress. He was whispering in her ear as she glanced in Wolfgang's direction. He noted the way he possessively held her delicate gloved fingers, and the way she fanned herself with disinterest while he spoke.  
  
_She doesn't love him! She barely has any interest at all._    
  
Wolfgang frowned at the unfortunate couple.  
  
The very idea of a young woman being married off to some old man made his skin crawl. Would this be the fate of his own darling sister?  
  
  
  
_That's the way it goes Wolfgang, wealthy ladies don't need to love their husbands - they simply need to marry them. Think of it more like a business transaction, and she pays in flesh.  
  
Thomas! How can you say that?  
  
  
  
  
_ Wolfgang had challenged the cool demeanour of his friend, stamping his foot in outrage. Thomas only chuckled in response. He seemed indifferent about the whole situation. _  
  
Well, it's true! So what are you going to do about it? We're merely servants Wolfgang.  
  
  
  
  
  
_ His stomach dropped and he lowered his gaze down to the keys beneath him, hoping the shake the thought. However, his restless eyes soon wandered back to Thomas.   
  
The boy was all fire and spectacle when performing, quite the opposite of the conservatively correct facade he'd adopted for himself otherwise. Or perhaps more realistically, the facade he'd been trained into. Wolfgang recognized that they were more or less the same - lively entertainers, with the conversational skills of a well read aristocrat coupled with the fashion and taste of someone from noble birth. Papa had coached him beyond just music, as was required for the venues in which Wolfgang was to perform.   
  
_Smile to the ladies, bow and curtsey to the gentlemen, be humble and most complimentary - and never offer your opinion, remember that above all else, your job is to entertain._  
  
Wolfgang suppressed a sigh, looking towards his friend whose eyes had closed mid phrase. Thomas was an entertainer, and it seemed that had both been cut from the same well starched cloth.    
  
Thomas however, seemed undisturbed by the concept as he was holding his audience captive.  
  
An exaggerated sweep of his bow, a sudden toss of his chestnut curls, a virtuosic cadenza! Thomas was no novice, of that Wolfgang could be certain. He lowered his eyes and smiled in appreciation of the rich low tones of Thomas' final phrase. The young man's command of the instrument was nothing short of Wolfgang's own staggering ability - an budding artist without measure.   
  
Thomas could make his violin sing, perhaps even more so than the little blonde haired boy ever could.  
  
Leopold watched the boys from the back of the room with a mixture of both awe and greed.  
  
His own son caught his eye and Leopold gave a quick nod of approval, clasping his hands together as he waited the final chord.   
  
Wolfie quickly looked back to the flamboyant young soloist with a small smile. He wondered if Thomas' father had pushed him like his own Papa had? Did Thomas still enjoy the violin, or was it more like work?  
  
  _Just focus on the music Wolferl.  
  
_ That's what Nannerl would whisper in his ear when they'd catch Papa's judging glare during their staged duets. Those steely grey eyes were always lurking from the edge of the stage, or at the back of the room. He'd always be ready with a full report on how they could improve before the next performance. _We'll need to work on your right hand Wolfgang, it was obviously more weak - I'll draft up the exercises immediately._     
  
Wolfgang inhaled slowly, as if he were breathing the sound itself of the violin itself.

When Thomas' last vibrato finally dissipated, Wolfgang slowly opened his eyes, releasing the piano keys most gently in accord. What they could create together seemed almost surreal. It was different than when he played with Nannerl, there was something more intense about the way the boy played. The way his fingers moved across the rosewood, or the gentle articulation of his wrist with each movement. When they played together, it was like a heart had opened to them both.  
  
Wolfie felt suddenly awash with a strange, radiating warmth.   
  
Thomas whirled towards him at the sound of the appreciative applause. "Wolfgang!" Thomas grinned before he ran to embrace his little Austrian friend. "Wolfgang - that was _inspired_!" Thomas was grinning from ear to ear as he clutched the violin by its scroll.  
  
"Bravo gentlemen - bravo!"  
  
"Yes, bravo!"   
  
The Duke and his mistress were thoroughly delighted - which of course had Leopold grinning like a fool.   
  
Thomas leaned in to whisper, "I'll never ask for anyone else to accompany me ever again - it shall be only you, forever!" Wolfgang blushed as Thomas continued to gush over their duet, practically bouncing up and down from excitement.   
  
After both the Duke and his mistress had lavished the boys with praise, they soon recognized the late hour and her ladyship began urging them all to retire. She masked a gentle yawn behind her lace fan.   
  
"There is a room upstairs that is plenty big enough for the boys, I'll have my servants turn down and bring them water."   
  
Leopold stroked his son's strawberry hair with a fatherly smile, "Bravo Wolferl" he murmured, watching the maids move to organize the sleeping quarters. "You made me proud"   
  
Wolfgang waited for the inevitable corrections, but surprisingly, none came. He felt a little unsettled with his Papa's lack of direction and critique post performance, it felt almost surreal to receive pure praise from such a demanding figure.  
  
"And young Master Linley - congratulations dear boy, I am suitably impressed." Leopold turned to Thomas in perfect, practiced English, "Maestro Nardini has done a marvelous job with you."  
  
Thomas turned bright crimson, and at a loss for words, he simply bowed in acceptance of the compliment.   
  
"Danke Herr Mozart" he stumbled sheepishly  
  
"Now, off to bed with the both of you."   
  
Leopold smacked Wolfgang's backside playfully and shooed them both up the stairs, "You'd better sleep - none of that staying up and giggling until dawn nonsense."  
  
The boys exchanged coy grins before bursting into a fits of giggles. They quickly charged up the stairs to their room, leaving Leopold shaking his head behind them.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Tossing their dress clothes about in heaps, they laughed and giggled, teasing one another and chattering about their performance. "Well, I wouldn't have slowed so much through that passage had you not distracted me with being so flat!"   
  
"Flat?" Thomas hissed, crawling on to the bed, raising a feathered pillow threateningly above his head, "You mean - you're just a clumsy half wit who can't keep time?"  
  
"Oh please - I have a perfect sense of pulse, it's _you_ who's the musical fool. Squawking away on that old sawdust box, batting your pretty eyes at any girl that looks your way. Distracting them from the _real_ truth! Oh yes Thomas Linley of London, I know _all_ about you!"  
  
Thomas' smile suddenly fell and he lowered the pillow, unnerved by Wolfgang's choice of words.  
  
"The real truth?"  
  
Thomas was unsettled, and more than a little concerned.  
  
Wolfgang pulled the covers towards himself, shaking his head, "You know what I'm talking about - don't be so coy" the hint of a giggle made Thomas' stomach turn uneasily.  
  
Thomas quickly crawled under the covers, keeping a safe distance between them.   
  
"I - I don't know what you're implying Wolfgang." he deflected sharply.  
  
"Of course you do - everybody knows"  
  
The colour from his face drained, and he cast his eyes downward, "Not everybody knows. That's not possible."  
  
"Sure they do - come on now, they call you the _English Mozart_ for God's sake - everyone knows I'm the better artist."  
  
Recognizing the innocence of his earlier sentiment, however backhanded it may have been, Thomas let out a heavy sigh of relief before rolling his eyes with a grin, " _That's_ what you meant?"  
  
Wolfgang tilted his head and regarded his friend with a curious smile, "What did you think I had meant?"  
  
Thomas scoffed and shook his head with a smile, thankful for Wolfgang's woeful ignorance.  
  
"Nothing - never mind."  
  
Soon enough, Wolfgang was on to another subject and all was forgotten - much to Thomas' relief.  
He settled on his side as he listened to Wolfie natter about his sister back home and then eventually to the young mistress who'd winked at him, or so he believed, during the evening concert.  
  
"I swear it Thomas - she looked right at me"  
  
Thomas grinned and shook his head, "You've got women on the brain my friend" he chuckled, chewing at his thumb as he felt his heart sink a little. Thomas knew what he wanted was next to hopeless.  
  
Wolfgang sighed dreamily, "You have to admit though Thomas, she's very pretty."  
  
Thomas perched up on his elbow, "You say that about everyone Wolfgang, really."  
  
"I do not!"  
  
"It's true. You even said _I_ was pretty - not even an hour ago!"  
  
"You are - it's true!" Wolfgang sat up suddenly, "You're far prettier than I, and girls love you. You probably don't even have to try."  
  
Thomas scoffed and rolled his eyes  
  
"I'm not so sure," he buried his blush into his pillow, "I don't really know what to do around girls, I'm not-"  
  
"I can help you!" Wolfie interjected enthusiastically, sending Thomas burying further under the covers.   
"You've got a lot of good features," Wolfgang began in a rather matter of fact way, "You're clever," he began his list, "you're talented, you have magnificent hair, and very pretty eyes! Girls love that."  
  
A shy green orb peeked out from behind the pillow  
  
"You think I have pretty eyes?"  
  
Wolfgang grinned and ripped the pillow away, "Of course I do!"  
  
"And you have a much more handsome face than Austrian boy with the ridiculous nose!"  
  
Thomas frowned through a deep blush, "I don't mind your nose" he murmured to himself  
  
"Come now Thomas, my nose has its own aristocracy it's so large!"  
  
They both began to giggle  
  
"Well, whatever you say - I quite like it. It's -" Thomas paused to search for the most appropriate term, "distinguished!"  
  
"...and I think you're eyes are very pretty also" he added shyly.  
  
Wolfgang flopped onto his back with an invigorated sigh, "For such good looking men, we should have at least fifteen women between us then!"  
  
Thomas rolled his eyes and laughed, "Right."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

  
That had been hours ago - before sleep had enveloped them both  
  
Before Thomas had woken with a stir  
  
Before Wolfgang had felt the gentle tug of his sleeve and the soft whisper of Thomas' voice in his ear  


 

  
" _Wolfgang_ \- are you awake?"  
  
  
"Mmm" Wolfgang grunted with a stifled yawn  
  
  
"I've been thinking-"  
  
  
"Mmm"  
  
  
"When you said you thought I was pretty?"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
There was no response, but Thomas persisted nonetheless  


 

 

  
"Did you mean it?"  
  
Thomas' tentative question was met with an eerie silence  
  
"Wolfgang?"  
  
Thomas listened intently for an answer that never came  
  
  
  
  
The raspy breathing signalled that Wolfgang had fallen back into unconsciousness with a gentle snore soon to follow.  
  
Thomas frowned and sank back under the covers, "Figures..." he muttered to himself dejectedly.   
  
He watched his friend sleeping peacefully with a sad smile. The gentle rise and fall of his chest and the soft golden hairs that framed his face. He was content watching Wolfgang's fingers curl gently into themselves, twitching sporadically as if under performance.   
  
Alas, his poor heart ached.  
  
It was nearly morning, and he knew that soon they'd be woken by the maids who would come to sweep the fire. He frowned, thinking better of himself.   
  
  
  
_Don't do it Thomas - you'll regret it.  
  
You're risking everything, don't be a fool.  
  
_  
  
  
He hovered over the smaller boy, weighing his options.  
  
  
_You're mad if you think he'll return the sentiment - he's obviously wild for girls!_  
  
  
"Oh curse it all..." he whispered under his breath before leaning down and placing a nervous kiss on the soft parted lips beneath him. They were warm and slightly chapped against his own. He could taste the chocolate they'd been fed earlier, and a hint of citrus from the sweet wine served with dinner.   
Thomas pulled away, recognizing the gravity of what he'd done and quickly scurried under the covers with his back turned. He clutched his pillow against his chest, burying his nose deep enough to shield his eyes. He bit his lip and held his breath, bracing for Wolfgang's inevitable retaliation.  
  
_God help me  
  
_ Thomas let a bitter tear of frustration slip down his cheek as he squeezed his eyes shut. _  
  
_ He knew he was to be damned for all eternity, but he simply couldn't rid himself of the feeling! _  
  
_  
_Forgive me.  
  
_

_  
_ Thomas felt the bed shift and a pair of cold feet bump up against his own which were soon followed by an arm that draped around his middle. The neat tuck of a nose against his neck brought warm breath against his bare shoulder as Wolfgang closed the distance between them.  
  
  
Thomas froze, feeling Wolfgang press himself neatly against his side   
  
  
  
  
"Thomas" Wolfie's funny Salzburger accent was always more apparent when he was sleepy  
  
  
  
"I meant every word"  
  
  
  
Thomas buried himself further into the pillow, smiling to himself as he let a few more tears fall.


End file.
